The Wait
by kates1304
Summary: When there are complications Jonny has to learn to cope alone...
1. Chapter 1 - Fine

'It's going to be fine' he says it for his own benefit as much as hers. If he says it over and over again with enough conviction then surely that will make it true. It's going to be fine. It has to be fine. There is no alternative. She is lying in the hospital bed, being suspiciously quiet. Normally he would have expected her to be haranguing the staff and him, but she is doing none of that. When she does speak her voice is quiet, scared, and it is only to tell him for the third time in less than ten minutes that her head hurts. He looks at the blood pressure monitor but he gets no good news there. 210 over 180. It is getting worse. She is getting sicker. They are going to deliver tonight, that is a given, but they want to leave it as long as possible. To let the steroid injection take effect. To give baby the best chance possible. 'It's going to be fine' he repeats, glancing up as the doctor comes in and quickly skims through the latest set of obs. It isn't their usual obstetrician, he is on holiday this week, and Jonny isn't at all sure that he trusts his replacement. She's too young: too pretty: wearing too expensive shoes. If he met her in a bar then sure, he'd probably try and get her into bed, but that doesn't mean that he trusts her to deliver his child. He knows that Jac would kill him for even thinking it, in fact although she isn't saying anything and he hasn't dared to voice his concerns he can almost hear her calling him a chauvinistic pig and he can't really argue with that. The truth is, with Jac getting sicker and with mother and baby's lives in peril, he doesn't trust anybody.

'Blood pressure has gone up again' the doctor remarks to nobody in particular as she skims through the notes. 'Oedema in the extremities, worsening headache and severe epigastric pain. This has gone on long enough. We need to get Jac into theatre and deliver'  
'Now?' he asks, feeling sick to the pit of his stomach. It is too soon. Thirty five weeks so it could be a lot worse, but still too soon. He knows that it is irrational but somehow it feels like two or three more hours could make all the difference although he knows that it won't.  
'Baby's heartbeat is strong. She's thirty five weeks, she stands a good chance'  
'And Jac?' he asks because his daughter's safe delivery is not enough. He needs them both to be fine.  
'I'm not going to lie to you, Jonny, Jac's very unwell. Delivering now gives her the best chance of a full recovery'  
'I see' he replies. He doesn't know what else to say. He'd like to tell Dr Oliver that this shouldn't be happening – that Jac should be in a private suite at the Hadlington with an epidural, not in a high dependency maternity bed in her own hospital about to undergo a Caesarian – but he doesn't bother. This isn't Dr Oliver's fault, any more than it is his or Jac's and nothing that Dr Oliver does or doesn't do can change the fact that this is now how they planned things. All that the doctor can do is help them make the best of the crap hand that they've been dealt and so instead of haranguing the doctor he goes back to Jac. Tells her that it will be fine and that he'll see her when she gets back. He contemplates asking whether he can join them in theatre but he doesn't bother. Having him in theatre getting under their feet isn't going to make the doctors do any better a job and also he doesn't think that he could stomach seeing her cut open. He has seen it time and time again in his job and yet the fact that it is going to be her lying on the table, unconscious and helpless, turns his stomach. He can't bear to think about it, let alone see it.  
'You can wait here if you like. Call somebody to sit with you. Have a cup of tea' the doctor tells him kindly 'We'll take good care of them'

ooooo

He does as the doctor suggests. He waits in her room. He calls Mo to sit with him. She makes him a cup of tea and he lets it get cold. They don't speak because he doesn't know what to say and she knows him well enough to know when he wants conversation and when he doesn't. It probably takes no more than twenty minutes for news to arrive but to him it feels like a lifetime.  
'Jonny' he doesn't take the fact that Dr Oliver herself has come to speak to him as a good sign. In fact he sees it as a very bad sign indeed. When she walks into the room his blood runs cold because she shouldn't be here. She should be in theatre with Jac and the baby, not here. It is too quick.  
'What's happened?'  
'You've got a daughter. She's been taken to the neonatal intensive care unit but it's precautionary. She's breathing, her colour is good and she's alert'  
'And Jac?' he asks because if the baby is doing so well then the only explanation for the grim expression on her face is that Jac is not doing so well.  
'We're doing our best. She has developed Disseminated Intravascular Coagulation. Do you know what that is?'  
'Yes' he replies, feeling sick. Disseminated Intravascular Coagulation. DIC. Death Is Coming he once heard a flippant junior doctor call it. Jac had heard it too and thrown the junior off the ward for being disrespectful. It is, without a doubt, very bad news.  
'We're giving her platelets and she's had twelve pints of blood. We've cross-matched another twenty-four. We're doing everything we can…'  
'I sense a but' he tells her although he feels so sick that he can barely speak at all.  
'She is very, very unwell. As soon as you can go and see the baby a nurse will come and fetch you. I should go back into theatre' the doctor tells him and, with a final squeeze of his hand which she has been holding for the whole conversation, she leaves.

ooooo

He doesn't realise that he's crying until his knees buckle and he feels Mo's arms around him, catching him before he slithers to the floor. He knows that he should be relieved that at least the baby is safe, but he isn't. He needs both of them, nothing else will do. Even though he and Jac aren't a couple, aren't anything really, he doesn't know how to contemplate life without her anymore.  
'Jonny, it's going to be alright' Mo murmurs, rocking him gently in her arms 'Whatever happens, it's going to be alright'  
'Is it?' he asks, looking up at her, willing her to say something, anything, to make him believe that it will.  
'It's Jac. She's as strong as an ox' his friend offers but it isn't a heartfelt reassurance and he doesn't believe it any more than she does. 'She'll fight. She doesn't know how to do anything else'  
'She's argumentative, Mo. She's not immortal'  
'I know that' Mo tells him gently 'What do you want me to say? That she's going to be fine? I can't do that, Jonny. I just don't know'  
'But what if she isn't?'  
'Then you'll cope. You and I together, we'll cope' she tells him. It is a small reassurance, miniscule, but it helps. It means that whatever happens he won't be alone.  
'Jonny?' a nurse that he doesn't recognise appears in the doorway, an overly bright smile on her face. She is wearing lilac scrubs and that tells him that she is from the neonatal unit. 'Baby is stable. She's in an incubator but she's awake and she's breathing for herself. You can come and see her if you'd like?'  
'Will the doctor know where I am?' he asks anxiously. He wants to see the baby, she is the only good thing to come out of any of this, but he also wants to make sure that if there is any news of Jac then he gets it as soon as possible.  
'I'm sure she will. It's just down the corridor' the nurse points to a set of double doors at the other end of the linoleum walkway. It is no more than twenty paces further from the operating theatre than the room he is in at the moment and yet he doesn't want to go, just in case they don't find him.  
'Would you like me to wait here?' Mo offers. Doing that thing that freaks him out and reading his mind. 'I can bring the doctor to you as soon as there's news'  
'That would be great' he tells her gratefully and follows the nurse to his daughter.

ooooo

He sits and watches over the sleeping baby, feeling relief every time her tiny chest rises and falls, as rhythmic as waves lapping on a beach. She is tiny but she's fine and for that he is grateful. He sits and strokes her tiny hand and gazes at her, but when the door opens and Mo walks in with the doctor he leaps to his feet, his daughter all but forgotten.  
'How is she?' he asks, aware that Mo has moved to his side, to catch him if he crumbles again. He is grateful: if he crumbles where he is standing now then he could easily end up taking out the incubator on his way down.  
'She's on intensive care. We had to perform a hysterectomy but we have managed to get the bleeding under control' the doctor tells him. For a second he wonders what the hell gave them the right to undertake such drastic surgery without consent but then he catches himself and realises that a womb is no use at all if she is dead. At least this way she is alive. 'She's got cerebral oedema and her kidney is struggling' the doctor adds. Kidney. Singular. Shit. He hadn't forgotten about that exactly but in all the pandemonium he hadn't focussed on the fact that it might pose a problem.  
'She only has one kidney' he tells the doctor, as if she didn't already know.  
'As things stand, that isn't making any difference. If she had two kidneys then they'd probably both be failing' the doctor tells him gently 'It certainly hasn't made her condition any worse' she adds. She is telling him that the donation isn't to blame and yet he immediately blames Paula because although he has never met the woman, and never wants to, she is something real towards which he can direct his anger. It's better than going out and punching a vending machine although he'll probably do that too.  
'Is she going to get better?'  
'We've got her on dialysis and we're going to keep he sedated. She's stable for now' the doctor tells him, which doesn't answer his question. 'At the moment I'm most concerned about the swelling on her brain. Until she wakes up we won't be able to tell if there's going to be any lasting damage'  
'She might be brain damaged?' he asks, feeling his eyes fill with tears because he knows Jac. He knows that she would sooner they let her die than let her be brain damaged because one night, when they'd had a little too much to drink and they were talking about Tara and Elliot's wife, she had told him so.  
'There's a chance'  
'How big a chance?'  
'It's too early to put a number on it' the Doctor tells him firmly, turning her attention to the baby rather than being drawn into fabricating groundless statistics that can later be thrown back in her face. 'You have a beautiful daughter. Congratulations'  
'Thanks' he replies, feeling sick. He feels sick because as much as he adores his daughter, at this moment there is a part of him that he is not proud of that would gladly swap her to have Jac back.


	2. Chapter 2 - Sleeping Angels

She looks like a sleeping angel. That in itself terrifies him because there has never been anything remotely angelic about Jac. She is rude, volatile and frequently reactionary, never peaceful and still like she is now. Even when she is asleep she tosses and turns, kicks him and tries to warm her cold feet on his legs. She is always brimming full of life. He doesn't recognise this pale, fragile woman with the auburn hair fanned out on the pillow. He is sure that his Jac is in there somewhere, but she is buried deep beneath the surface because he can see no sign of her. She has been like this for three days now and he would give anything, anything, to see any sign of recovery but there has been none. If anything, she is getting worse. Her lungs are filling with fluid and there has been no improvement in the condition of her brain or her kidney function. The doctors who started off saying that it was too early to tell have now started to prepare him for the worst, but he refuses to listen. They have a child now, and a life to live together, and he cannot, will not, let himself believe that she is going to leave all that behind.

ooooo

'How is she doing?' Mo asks him as he walks back onto the neonatal unit. He looks drained and exhausted, as if he has aged fifteen years in the last three days, but she can't blame him for that. With everything that has been going on she doesn't look her best herself, and she is just a spectator. She is there to support him and always will be, but he is the person caught in the heart of the nightmare, torn between the two people that he cares the most about and faced with the increasing likelihood that he is only ever going to get to take one of them home.  
'The same' he tells her, but he sounds despondent and she knows that what he really means is "a little bit worse". If Jac really was the same then he'd be happier because staying the same is a massive improvement on the steady decline that she has been on for the last few days. 'How's the baby?'  
'Fine' she replies, looking down at the tiny bundle in her arms. The baby yawns and stretches her tiny arms and in spite of the miserable situation, both Jonny and Mo manage to smile. She is the one good thing to come out of a horrendous situation and, at the moment, the only thing that is keeping Jonny going. She is strong, healthy and, as proven regularly during the night, has a fine set of lungs on her. Mo hasn't left the baby in the last three days because she knows that that is the most helpful thing that she can do for Jonny. She can do nothing to stop him from ripping himself in two, trying to be in both places at once, but she can make sure that he knows that while he is with Jac his daughter is not alone. Sacha has done the same, taking up residence at Jac's bedside so that Jonny can leave her, safe in the knowledge that there will be somebody there if anything changes.  
'The doctor says I can take her home at the end of the week' he tells her, gently taking the baby from her and cuddling her close, taking whatever comfort he can from the proximity of his sleeping daughter. 'I don't know where we're going to go'  
'What do you mean?' she asks, momentarily confused because surely knowing where to go is the easy bit. Knowing what to do when they get there might be a bit taxing because he's never even held a baby until this week and he can still barely change a nappy without wanting to reinforce it with gaffer tape, but she can see no difficulty with where they will go.  
'Which will Jac hate more? Her daughter spending her first nights out of hospital in my shoebox or me taking her keys and going to her place?' he clarifies and she understands the conundrum. Jac hates Jonny's flat. She's spent months telling him that he needs to find somewhere more practical to live because she doesn't want her daughter spending access visits in a one bedroom flat above a kebab shop, no matter how convenient it is when he can't be bothered to cook. The last thing she is going to want is for the baby to start her life living in the flat that she hates. On the other hand, Jac prizes her personal space above almost anything else and she probably won't take that kindly to Jonny letting himself into her house and making himself at home. The answer, Mo fears, is that it is a moot point because for Jac to go ballistic about either she first has to wake up and be capable of cogent thought, both of which are looking increasingly unlikely, but she can't tell Jonny that.  
'You can stay at mine' she tells him. It is a compromise. Her flat might not be somewhere that he and the baby will ever end up living on a permanent basis but it is clean, it is big enough for the three of them and it is in a pleasant apartment building beside a park rather than above a parade of shops in the grotty end of the city centre. It doesn't involve a major invasion of privacy either. It is the least contentious option that he is going to find, and it has the added advantage of childcare on tap.  
'Are you sure?'  
'Positive'  
'Just until Jac gets better' he tells her. He doesn't mention the alternative. He can't consider it. She understands that.  
'Just until Jac gets better' she agrees. They both know that she is humouring him.

ooooo

'You should go home and get some sleep' Mo tells him gently. They have been sitting in silence for hours, him cradling the baby while she busies herself with some paperwork. Even though there is really no need for her to be there, and even though she is as sleep deprived as he is, she doesn't leave him. It doesn't even seem to occur to her that there is anywhere else she could be. 'I'll stay with the baby until you get back'  
'I can't do that' he replies. Leaving his daughter in Mo's care so that he can go and visit Jac is a necessary evil, something that he needs to do because he is convinced that Jac is still in there somewhere and he won't have her thinking that he's stopped caring about her now that he's got what he wants. Going home to sleep, however, would feel selfish. If Jac is stuck on that horrible ward, trapped halfway between life and death, then he cannot just go about his life as normal. His needs – sleeping, eating and not smelling like a tramp – are so far down his list of priorities that he no longer even notices that he is not taking care of himself.  
'You haven't left the hospital in nearly a week. You need a change of scenery'  
'It's been three days' he tells her dully. In fact it has been three days, eighteen hours and twenty-six minutes since he forced the door to the Darwin office and found Jac on the floor beside her desk, barely conscious. If only she had told him how ill she felt rather than going into the office and locking herself in then this could have been averted. He thinks about it over and over again. How she had gone for a lie down in the office without telling anybody, and how it had been nearly four hours before he'd been concerned enough to kick the door in because he'd just been glad that she was resting for once in her life. He has to remind himself that it is not her fault; that she didn't know how ill she was. She is no more to blame than he is for being negligent and letting her out of his sight. Surely they have suffered enough for their carelessness.  
'Well at the very least, you need a shower. It's getting a bit gross now' she changes tack: tries to get him to leave the baby for half an hour so that he can clean himself up and, with a bit of luck, fall asleep in the changing room. 'Go up to Darwin; clean yourself up, nip in and see Jac and we'll still be here when you get back'  
'Fine' he agrees, not because he feels ready to do anything as normal as take a shower, and not because he wants to go anywhere near that bloody ward that he had always feared would be the death of Jac, but simply because he will take any excuse to go and see Jac and Mo knows it. 'Call me if you need anything'  
'We won't' she replies firmly 'Eldest of five, remember. I've probably changed more nappies than you ever will. Now go' she takes the baby from his arms before he changes his mind and gives him a kiss on his forehead. 'Go!'


	3. Chapter 3 - Avoidance

Like a zombie he walks up to Darwin, ignoring everybody who stares at him or stops and tries to engage him in conversation. He doesn't want to have a conversation because it will undoubtedly turn to Jac, and he isn't interested in being the ward freak show. He doesn't want to be there at all, but Mo is right: he is starting to smell really bad, and she will know if he just goes to Jac because Sacha will rat him out and, more incriminatingly, he will still stink when he gets back. He dodges Marie-Claire and Doctor Tressler by the lift, and slams the door to the locker room just before Chantelle has the chance to follow him in. She is always so lovely and sunny, but today he just can't handle her. He doesn't want to talk to anybody unless it's a doctor who is telling him that Jac is going to be just fine, and so far he's yet to find a doctor willing to make any such promises. Wedging a chair beneath the door handle so he is not interrupted he opens his locker and pulls out the towel and shower gel that he keeps there for mornings after nights out when he needs to freshen up before anybody, especially Jac, realises that he hasn't been home and it more often than not still a little bit drunk. The thought of Jac, larger than life and spewing witty insults makes him feel sick and he had to steady himself against the wall before he can take the three short steps to the shower. The doctor, the last one, the one whose lights he very nearly punched out, had told him that even if Jac does recover – and it is a big if – then the brain damage that she's sustained means that she won't be the same. There will be no more wise cracks, no more arguments that she won purely on the basis of her superior intelligence. And yet he doesn't believe that. He can't. She will wake up and she will be the woman that he loves because she has to. She just has to.

He showers quickly. Mo was right, the hot water and the citrusy soap does make him feel more alert than he's been in days and he does feel better for being clean, but he doesn't hang around. Normally he takes as long as he possibly can in the shower, between his showers and Jac's lengthy baths they can bleed a hot water tank dry in a couple of hours, but today the longer he spends in the shower means the less time he'll have with Jac and the longer he'll be away from his daughter. Neither of those are things that he's willing to sacrifice for anything so he quickly washes, dries off and he is heading towards Jac in less than ten minutes. Again he has to dodge concerned colleagues but he is getting used to it and he reaches the lift without incident. It is only when he is inside, leaning back against the cool metal wall and breathing a sigh of relief, that he realises too late that he's got company.  
'Nurse Maconie. How are you coping?' Elliot asks him kindly. He reaches past Jonny and presses the button for the ground floor – maternity – then catches the look on Jonny's face and also presses the button for ITU. 'I take it you're going to see Jac?'  
'Yeah' he nods, cursing the fact that Elliot's interfering means that he's going to have to go down to the ground floor before he can go up to ITU which will waste at least two minutes of his precious time.  
'How is she doing?'  
'Not great' he replies, it about as honest as he can bring himself to be 'It's early days'  
'And the baby? I hear she looks just like her mother?'  
'The baby's fine' he replies tersely. He knows that Elliot means well – the man has got a heart of gold and it is impossible to be truly angry with him – but he can't face talking to him because Elliot Hope is practically the patron saint of distraught men. He's seen the way that Elliot stoically bore the brunt of Oliver's meltdown and he's watched Elliot tenderly mop up the quivering remains of Sacha that Chrissie left behind. He doesn't want to be another of Elliot's projects. He doesn't need to be because Jac is going to be fine.

When the doors open on the ground floor, Jonny staggers out of the lift without so much as a goodbye. It isn't even where he wants to be and Elliot knows that, but he doesn't follow him. He is a perceptive man and he knows when his interference isn't wanted. Even so, Jonny's reaction worries him because until now he had been under the impression that Jac's condition had stabilised. He's been so busy keeping Darwin from falling apart now that it's two surgeons and one senior nurse down that he hasn't had much time to keep tabs on Jac's condition but the news that he has had hasn't been too grim. The fact that Jonny has a look of a man whose entire life has spontaneously combusted makes him think that there's something that he hasn't heard and his initial assumption is that it is something to do with the baby. He isn't usually one for prying, even if his own personal brand of supportiveness is sometimes misconstrued has interfering, but Jonny's behaviour concerns him enough that he goes back to the office and, for only the second time in his life, accesses the hospital mainframe for something other than checking on a patient. The last time he did it he'd been under the expert tutelage of Connie Beauchamp who, it seemed, quite regularly used the new-fangled electronics notes system to keep tabs on her colleagues and it takes him a little longer without her guidance but eventually he pulls up the records of Jac's admission to AAU. As he reads, a tight knot settles in his stomach. Words like kidney failure, Disseminated Intravascular Coagulation and Cerebral Oedema leap off the page and punch him in the face. Jac is clearly a lot sicker than is common knowledge, and in spite of their years of squabbling and the fact that more often than not she is the bane of his life, a tear falls down his face.


	4. Chapter 4 - Home

The weekend looms over him, shadowy and threatening but inescapable. No matter how much he doesn't want to deal with it he cannot escape from the fact that in a matter of a few days he is going to have to take his daughter home and he is going to have to cope. They will be at Mo's and that will help, but his overwhelming feeling is still one of fear. He can't do this. Not unless he has Jac beside him. It would be the blind leading the blind but she is brighter than him, and she might actually have listened in the antenatal classes when he spent most of them checking the football score. She would know what to do. If she doesn't recover, and quickly, then who is going to tell him when he gets it wrong? Mo, probably, but she isn't the same. She will do it nicely, she will try to spare his feelings but frankly at this point he would sell his soul for somebody to tell him that he's being a bloody idiot. On Wednesday and Thursday he was able to pretend that by Saturday Jac would have staged a miraculous recovery and she would at least be able to tell him what to do, if not be beside him while he did it. Now it's Friday, and he has to admit that it's looking unlikely. She hasn't gotten any worse, that is just about as positive as it's possible to be about her condition, but the doctors have started to talk in vague terms about making plans. Thinking about how long she would want to stay in this state. Turning off the life support machines and letting her go. When she'd first scribbled him down as her next of kin, muttering "Who else would you suggest? My mother?" he had been delighted. It was a sign that she had finally started to accept his place in her life. Now, the responsibility is crushing him but he takes comfort from the fact that at least nobody else is going to wade it and let her go before he is ready. He will never be ready.

ooooo

When they walk out of the hospital on Saturday morning it feels like an assault on his senses. For a week he hasn't left the hospital, even for a breath of air that isn't tainted with antiseptic, and the combination of crisp, cold, fresh air and wintery sunlight feels completely alien to him. So does the small, tightly wrapped up bundle that is sleeping in his arms. For the last week he has been with her almost constantly and yet he has been able to kid himself that he is never going to have to take any real responsibility for her. There have been nurses to help him with feeding, bathing and nappies, but for everything else there is Mo. Mo who, quite uncharacteristically, has let him down. She doesn't know that she has let him down, in fact he is pretty sure that if he asked her she would say that she took the shift for his own good. To force him to stand on his own two feet and realise that he wasn't totally incapable before she steps in to help. She also took it because Darwin is in a parlous state with most of its staff out of action and it will help nobody if there is no ward to go back to, but mainly he knows that she is forcing him to step up: to take responsibility and be a parent. She knows how unprepared he is for that, and yet as always Mo knows best. In his head he curses her silently as he fastens the baby into the car seat and checks half a dozen times that he has done it correctly. He doesn't want to be doing this on his own, and he doesn't want to be leaving Jac. What he really wants is to run back into the hospital, palm his daughter off on the first responsible adult and go to Jac. He wants to beg her to wake up because he doesn't think that he can do this on his own. He's had that conversation with her a dozen times and it never makes an ounce of difference, but at least having it makes him feel like he is doing something. What stops him is the fact that she wouldn't want him to let their daughter down. She would want him to take their daughter home and try and give her some kind of normality, and since it is letting Jac down that terrifies him more than anything, he gets into the driving seat, makes one last check of the car seat fastenings and pulls out of the car park.

ooooo

'Elliot, I don't think that this was such a good idea' Mo tells him for the twentieth time in as many minutes. They had stood side by side in the office and watched silently as Jonny had strapped the baby into the car and driven off. She knows that Jonny had been distinctly unimpressed when she'd handed him the house keys and said that she needed to work and would see him later, but Elliot's reasoning had been difficult to argue with. If she went with them then Jonny would let her take charge and he would be back at the hospital with Jac within the hour. He needed to stand on his own two feet and he wasn't going to do it while she was there, acting as a safety net.  
'Jonny is more capable than you give him credit for, but he won't take responsibility while he's got you there to do it for him. Men never do, you see. I remember when James was born. For the first six weeks I was convinced that I was the best father that had ever existed, but I wasn't. Gina did everything; I just showered him with presents and attention. I got the shock of my life when she told me that she was going out for the evening and I was babysitting, but it was what I needed. That was the night that I became a father, not the night that James was born. I think it's a lesson that Jonny needs to learn too' Elliot tells her, chuckling slightly at the memory of his ineptitude. She still isn't convinced. It might be a nice anecdote about a man whose life hadn't crumbled on the same night that he'd become a father, but Jonny's case is hardly the same. What Jonny needs is support, and she isn't giving it to him by being here.  
'Anyway,' Elliot adds, sensing her dubiousness. 'I wasn't making it up when I said I needed you to work. This place is going to grind to a halt unless I get some help because I might be a good surgeon but I'm more tortoise than hare. Jac was always the reason why we met our monthly targets. I wonder if you'd like to cover her list and step up into the role of consultant until something permanent is agreed?'  
'I…' she trails off, feeling slightly sick. A week ago she would have jumped at the chance but now the achievement feels tainted. She had only ever wanted two things from life. She wanted to be a consultant and she wanted family waiting for her when she got home. She still wants those things, but not like this. She wants her own consultant position and her own partner and baby waiting for her at home but right now, all of those things belong to somebody else and she feels like an interloper.  
'For you to pass up on this opportunity so you have more free time to help Jonny won't help either of you, you know' Elliot tells her, totally misunderstanding her hesitation. 'He needs to stand on his own two feet. You can't be there for the next eighteen years or so to hold his hand'  
'I think the general idea is that that's Jac's job' she replies, but she knows that he is right. Jonny might be deep in denial but she finds it difficult to join him there. Even so, if – when – the worst does happen, she isn't going to step straight into a dead woman's shoes. The very idea sends a shiver down her spine. 'I'll work my shifts, Elliot, because you're right, the ward is going to go down the pan otherwise. But I'm also going to be there for him. If he calls me then I'm gone'


	5. Chapter 5 - Lost & Found

When she gets home the house is strangely quiet. She had expected to find the lounge deluged with nappies and other baby related paraphernalia and Jonny attempting to calm a screaming infant, but there is none of that. The living room is pristine, the kitchen untouched, and a quick scout of the bedroom shows no sign of her houseguests. Wherever Jonny has gone after leaving the hospital, it isn't here as planned. Whipping out her phone she calls him, not remotely surprised when it cuts straight to his daft comedy voicemail greeting and, after leaving him a message, she calls Elliot. This is his stupid fault. If he hadn't known what was best and pressured her into working today instead of being with Jonny and the baby then this would never have happened. They would be here and she would be looking after them instead of being rooted to the spot in terror at the thought of what might have happened to them. Jonny is in a bad way, no question, and while she trusts him wholeheartedly she can't shake the feeling that something bad has happened. It doesn't help that she is the only person, possibly in the world, who knows what had happened to his father. Historically Maconie men do not handle bereavement well and she can't stand even the thought of Jonny going down the same path.

'Elliot' she barks as soon as he answers the phone. He sounds bleary eyed and sleepy. Clearly she has interrupted him punctuating his double shift with a much-needed nap in the office. Normally she would feel bad for that because he is far too old to be pulling doubles and he needs all the rest that he could get, but right now she is too angry with him. 'Elliot, I need you to go to ITU and see whether Jonny is with Jac'

'Surely he's at home, with the baby' Elliot points out slowly, but she can tell from his tone of voice that he already knows that that isn't the case.

'If he was then I wouldn't be calling you' she replies, feeling bad for being brusque with him when, misguided or not, everything he's done he's done with the best of intentions. 'Just go, check ITU and call me if they're there' she adds, and to her relief he agrees.

'No sign' he tells her when he calls her back ten minutes later, after she has paced the floor of her flat maybe a hundred times. 'Perhaps you should check his flat'

'He's not answering the phone there' she tells him miserably. She knows that he's right, that there are three or four places that he could well have gone, but all her instincts are telling her to call the police.

'Let's check it out before we over react' Elliot tells her firmly 'I'll make sure that nobody here has seen him, you go and check Jonny's flat and anywhere else you can think of that he might have gone'

ooooo

'There we go' he murmurs soothingly, stroking the baby's head gently as she snuggles in his arms. To his surprise he's not actually that bad at this childcare lark. So far he's changed two nappies and given her a bottle, and so far he seems to have managed it all with a reasonable level of competence. It helps that the nursery is characteristically well designed and well equipped with every possible appliance that he could think of, and that makes it easier. He decided on a whim to turn left at the high street and come here rather than turning right and going to Mo's, but on balance he thinks that it was the right decision. Whether or not Jac would like him clattering around her house without her permission, the fact remains that this is going to be the baby's home and it is here that she should spend her first few days, not in somebody else's flat no matter how nice that flat is. The lovingly planned nursery only confirms that this was the right thing to do. 'Who is daddy's pretty girl' he adds, stroking his daughter's face. He's loved her from the very first moment that he clapped eyes on her, in the special care unit at the hospital, but until now he's held something back. There has been a part of him that hasn't wanted to fall head over heels in love because her existence is the reason why Jac is where she is, but now that they're here he cannot help it. He is madly in love with her and he already knows that he is going to spoil her rotten. That is another good reason why Jac has to be alright: they need her unique brand of tough love to balance out the fact that he will never be able to say "no".

ooooo

For the first time in a week, he dozes off. With the reassuring weight of his daughter in his arms the sleep that has eluded him finally comes and sweeps over him like a shroud, and the next thing he knows he is being woken up by Mo standing over him, hands on her hips and a pissed off expression on her face. As he looks at her his first thought is fear that she has come to give him more bad news about Jac, but it is fleeting because if she had come here to break bad news then she probably wouldn't look like she was about to give him the bollocking of his life.

'I've been worried sick' she snaps and he realises what it is that he forgot to do. He'd had a list of things in his head that he needed to sort out – buying nappies, working out how the hell to make formula, that kind of thing – but calling Mo to tell her where he'd gone had dropped off the bottom of it.

'I'm sorry, Mo. I've been a bit…'

'Preoccupied? Yeah, I get it' she collapses onto the sofa next to him and peers down at the sleeping baby. 'A phone message wouldn't have gone amiss though'

'I know. I did mean to…'

'I know you did. You seem to be getting along alright'

'We're muddling through' he replies, kissing his daughter's head gently 'I thought it best to bring her here. It's where she was always intended to be, and when Jac's better it's where she's going to live. May as well save her the upheaval later, I thought'

'Jonny…' Mo looks dismayed and he knows that she is worried that he is in denial and that if something happens to Jac that will make it harder for him to deal with, but he knows that she is worrying unnecessarily. Jac is going to be just fine. She has to be.

'It's fine, Mo. It's going to be fine' he tells her, wishing that she'd believe him. The longer Jac stays the way she is, the harder it is to get people to believe him when he insists that she is going to wake up. 'She's going to wake up'

'Oh Jonny…' she looks at him. Her eyes fill with tears and he knows what she is going to do. She is going to give him a reality check, not because she wants to be cruel but because she loves him and she thinks that he needs to wake up and realise how dire things are. He stands up and thrusts the baby into her arms because he needs to distract her: to stop her in her tracks before she says something that she can't unsay. Something that he'll never really be able to forgive her for because if there's one person who he needs to tell him it'll be alright then it's Mo.

'I'm going to go to the hospital and see Jac. You'll babysit won't you?'

'Of course' she nods. She still looks like she's going to cry, but she has stopped saying what she was about to say that he couldn't hear. 'How long do you think you'll be?'

'Two hours maybe' he replies. 'Keep an eye on Auntie Mo for me, eh' he leans down and kisses the baby in Mo's arms. Forces himself to make light of the situation because he wants the tears shimmering in Mo's eyes to be gone. 'Don't let her eat all of mummy's chocolate or there'll be hell to pay'

'We'll be fine' she tells him. She sounds miserable and defeated. Under any other circumstances he would stay and comfort her but right now he can't. He needs to not be around her.


	6. Chapter 6 - Denial

**A/N Thanks for your replies! News of Jac probably coming in the next part I promise! Just needed to decide for myself which way to go...**

Two hours is long enough. It gives him half an hour to drive there, half an hour to drive back and an hour with Jac. An hour is precisely the right amount of time to be with Jac. Any longer than that and he is liable to get cornered by a doctor who wants to talk about "next steps" and "care pathways". Any less and he feels that he is neglecting her. He sits at her bedside and he talks. About their daughter, about what neither of them have watched on the television, and about the first really cold week of winter that she has been lucky enough to miss. As always he asks her – begs her – to wake up and she is as stubborn as always. Nobody tells Jac Naylor what to do and if they do then she does precisely the opposite. On once occasion he tried telling her to stay in the coma, just in case she really was that contrary, but it had achieved nothing except for earning him a very odd look from a nurse. When he runs out of small talk, which doesn't take long as it's a completely one sided conversation, he takes her hand and chafes it between his palms. Her skin is soft, her manicure is immaculate and her hand is still warm. There is still life there, coursing through the veins beneath her translucent skin, and it fills him with renewed certainty. She is going to be fine, all he has to do is wait.

ooooo

When he gets home he is in better spirits than he has been for days. He positively bounds into the bedroom and takes the baby from Mo's arms, rocking her gently back and forth and telling her what a beautiful girl she is. He is in such high spirits that for a moment she thinks that Jac must have woken up, but if that was the case then he would still be at the hospital.

'Jonny' she approaches him gently, slipping her arm around his shoulder. She hates that she is going to have to be the person to bring him crashing back down to earth, but somebody needs to do it. Clearly he has found another straw to clutch at but sooner or later this needs to stop. Letting him believe that everything is going to be fine might be the kindest thing to do in the short term, but in the long term it is no solution at all. She has fallen into the trap of lying to spare his feelings once before. Five years ago during his mercifully short term, ill-fated marriage to Marlena, he had sought her reassurance that his wife wasn't having an affair with her personal trainer and even though she knew different, she had lied. Spared his feelings and told him that no, of course his wife wasn't cheating on him. She had also gone and told Marlena to knock the relationship with the personal trainer on the head, but to no avail, and when, inevitably, it had all blown up in Jonny's face he had blamed her. Not because she knew that Marlena was screwing around because thankfully he never found out that she did, but because she had promised him that it would all be fine and it wasn't. They hadn't spoken for six months, which was actually longer than the marriage. Sometimes he can be a total child, it's one of the things she loves about him, but she doesn't want to risk falling out with him when he is going to need her more than ever. Better, she decides, to give him a gentle reality check now. 'How is Jac?'

'No change' he replies but he sounds cheerful about it 'but she just needs time. She's going to be fine'

'Jonny, I don't think she is' she tells him gently, apologetically. 'She hasn't been sedated since Tuesday and she's shown no sign of improvement'

'What are you saying?' he turns and stares at her, bristling at the implication of what she is suggesting.

'I think that you need to prepare yourself' she tells him. It is as brutal as she can bring herself to be, but it is enough. He pushes her arm from around him and gets to his feet, startling the baby with the sudden movement.

'You don't think that she's going to recover from this' it's a statement, not a question, and she can see the hurt in his eyes. Her message has hit home, loud and clear.

'I think that you need to consider the possibility…'

'Get out' he tells her. He doesn't raise his voice more than is necessary to be heard over the screaming infant, but she can hear the icy anger in his tone.

'Jonny, I…'

'Out' he storms past her and down the stairs, and by the time she reaches the stairs he has already thrown the door open and he is waiting for her to leave through it.

'Jonny…'

'Go' he tells her coldly and although she wants to stay and support him she does as she's told and leaves.

ooooo

He knows that she is right. He knows that Jac's condition is not improving and that it is looking increasingly unlikely that it ever will, and yet he cannot bear to hear it voiced. Not by Mo because she is the one person whose opinion he values more than anybody else's. He throws her out because it is easier than the alternative: listening to what she has to say and accepting that she has a point. Once she is gone he can avoid dwelling on it because he has plenty to distract him. For one thing, the baby has been screaming her little head off since he accidentally woke her while getting rid of Mo. He knows nothing about how to comfort a baby, and until now he hasn't had to because somebody else has dealt with it for him. He tries bouncing her in his arms, changing her nappy and offering her a bottle but nothing works. It seems that she just wants to scream and within minutes his nerves are shredded and he's sorely tempted to call Mo back to help. He doesn't because even to soothe his daughter he cannot bring himself to even pretend to accept Mo's point.


	7. Chapter 7 - Conflict

'I'm sorry, Jonny. I can't allow it' the nurse tells him apologetically. The problem with falling out with Mo, it turns out, is that without her he has no safety net. There is nobody to provide childcare when he wants to visit Jac, or to provide company in the dead of night when the baby is screaming disconsolately and he doesn't know what to do. He hasn't seen Jac for over a day because Mo is the only colleague that he really knows well enough to ask to babysit, and he has bought the baby here only because he is at the end of his tether. He didn't seriously think that the nurse would let him see Jac with a week old infant in tow, but he didn't have any better ideas.  
'Can you watch her for five minutes?' he tries desperately. He is here now, and Jac is tantalisingly close. He is desperate to see her but he knows that the nurse is right. From an infection control point of view alone he cannot take a baby into ITU.  
'I'm sorry, Jonny. I have patients to take care off' the nurse tells him, apologetically. She is an agency nurse, not one that he is acquainted with, and as such she is probably not going to do him any favours as a mate.  
'Fine' he sighs, glancing down into the buggy, wondering whether leaving her in the Darwin locker room for five minutes would be totally unforgivable. He quickly concludes that it would. He has enough problems to contend with without social services trying to take his daughter off him.

ooooo

He contemplates going to Darwin with a muffin on the off chance that Elliot is in his office and willing to be bribed with baked goods but he swiftly decides against it. If he goes to Darwin then he will have to avoid Mo, and there is always the danger that Elliot too will try to make him see the reality of Jac's condition. He isn't willing to take that risk so instead he heads straight for the car park, putting his hood up because it is bloody cold out and because it might just prevent any of his colleagues from spotting him and engaging him in conversation. He is nearly at the car when he hears footsteps behind him. They are too light to be Elliot's, or even Mo's, and for a second he thinks of Jac and her infuriating habit of sneaking up on him, but he swiftly dismisses it because he's not THAT deep in denial. He chooses to hope that it's a patient simply walking too close to him but as the pace quickens behind him he knows that it isn't.  
'Jonny!' she calls out and he freezes in his tracks. He knows that trying to hide is pointless: she is nothing if not tenacious and she loves nothing more than cuddling babies. Every time he's seen her in the last six months she has wittered on about how much she is looking forward to having cuddles with the baby, and now she has got him cornered. As much as he likes her he doesn't think that he has the energy for that level of optimism, and yet on the other hand she solves a problem.  
'Chantelle' he manages a wan smile 'How are you?'  
'I'm fine' she replies chirpily, peering into the buggy 'Hello! I've been looking forward to meeting you'  
'Have you finished your shift?' he asks, although he can guess the answer from the fact that she is not in uniform and his holding her car keys.  
'Yeah. What are you doing here? There's nothing wrong with the baby, is there?'  
'No, no, she's fine. We just came to see Jac, but they won't let us in. Well, they won't let me in with her…'  
'Would you like me to look after her for an hour' Chantelle offers immediately, just as he hoped she would.  
'Would you mind? That would be amazing' he replies gratefully, already pushing the buggy into her hands. 'There are nappies in the bag, and a bottle. I'll meet you in the canteen?'  
'Sure' Chantelle beams, taking the bag from him. 'No rush, take as long as you need'  
'Thanks' he replies gratefully, giving her a kiss on the cheek before he dashes inside. Normally he finds her endless optimism misplaced and wearing but today she is just about the best friend that he has.

ooooo

He sits with Jac for the hour that Chantelle has given him. He holds her hand, he tells her about the baby and he argues briefly with the nurse who asks whether he will stay until her consultant arrives. He can't do that because his daughter is waiting for him and, more to the point, because he can't face hearing bad news. He doesn't tell Jac about his argument with Mo. There is no point: he doesn't want Jac to know that there is anybody who thinks that she isn't going to survive, and anyway she wouldn't exactly be sorry that his friendship with Mo is effectively terminated. She's never much liked Mo anyway. Eventually, when the nurse finally goes away and they are alone, he rests his head on the edge of the bed. He hasn't slept in well over a day thanks to the baby's caterwauling and he just needs to rest his head for a couple of minutes. Jac, he thinks, would probably understand and at least if he can hear the rhythmic bleeping of the heart monitor then he can stop having the nightmare about the bleeping stopping.

ooooo

She can hear rushing in her ears and for a second the roaring is so loud that she wonders whether she is on the bike. Then, as she focuses on the fact that she isn't moving and there is no breeze, she realises that the noise is a ventilator and that the beeping that she can hear is not car horns in the traffic: it is a heart monitor, bleeping in time with her own heartbeat. There is something in her mouth, in her throat, and it makes her gag when she tries to swallow but when she tries to reach up and pull it out she finds that her hands are pinioned to the bed by drips and needles. Machines, drips and the device that is forcing air into her lungs and prevents her from calling out trap her to the bed. She tries to open her eyes but she struggles and she realises that they are taped shut, and when she tries to wriggle her foot as a last ditch attempt at getting some attention she finds that it won't work as she wants it to. She doesn't know what the hell is going on, but she wants it to stop.


	8. Chapter 8 - Awakening

At first he doesn't hear the faint splutter, he is in such a deep sleep, but the second time it registers and his eyes snap open. He is certain that he heard it but he looks at Jac's lifeless form, and the numbers on the screen, which have risen only slightly, and he realises that it must have been a dream. Her condition doesn't seem to have changed at all, no matter how much he wants it to.

'Time to go' he tells her wearily, glancing at his watch, seeing that he has been just over the hour. Chantelle will be wondering where he's got to. 'I'll come and see you tomorrow' he tells her, wondering whether Chantelle would like to make babysitting for an hour in exchange for a cappuccino and a Danish pastry into a regular thing.

'The consultant will be here in thirty minutes' the nurse tells him and he realises too late that he has company. He had hoped to slip out before she came back and resumed badgering him to talk to the consultant who will only bear bad news. 'I think that you should wait. He'd really like to talk to you, since you're her next of kin'

'I've got to get back to the babysitter'

'I did wonder what you'd done with the baby' the nurse admitted with a faint smile 'Will the babysitter not wait an extra few minutes? If you explain?'

'She's already doing me a massive favour' he tells her. In truth, if he explains he knows that Chantelle will happily wait with the baby, but he doesn't want that. He doesn't want to be forced to make any decisions. 'Sorry'

'Maybe we can arrange a time tomorrow. Dr McCartney will be on the ward tomorrow between six and eight if you can be here then…'

'I'll have to see how my childcare arrangements pan out' he lies, relieved that she has basically told him when he needs to avoid the ward for maximum effect.

'Fine' the nurse replies cheerily, not astute enough to realise that he is lying. He is relieved when she trots off to another patient and leaves him to say his goodbyes because it buys him another couple of days of denial.

ooooo

She can hear Jonny. She is sure it is him because even though he sounds tense, he still manages to also sound irritatingly laid back. She wonders what the hell he is doing here, and then she remembers. The baby. She doesn't remember anything after going into the Darwin office, but she remembers that when she did she was pregnant. With her hands pinned to the bed and her eyes taped shut she is powerless to check on the bump, but she is aware that she has been lying here for a good ten minutes and hasn't felt the baby move, and that they are only monitoring one heart beat. That can't be good news. Beside her Jonny is whispering goodbye to her and kissing her forehead in a manner that frankly she finds overly familiar. If only she didn't have this wretched tube in her mouth she would ask what the hell he thinks he's doing, but in her current state the best that she can manage is to gag on the tube again.

ooooo

This time he's certain of what he heard. There was a splutter, a small sign of life but a sign of life nonetheless, and before he has time to consider whether it is a slight overreaction he has yanked the crash bell.

'She's waking up!' he tells the nurse who runs into the room red faced, followed by two anaesthetists and a displeased looking ITU Consultant.

'What makes you say that?' the Consultant asks gently, peering down at Jac who admittedly doesn't look any different to how she did before the spluttering.

'She was choking on the tube' he explains, willing her to do it again and prove that he's not just a desperate man who is hearing things.

'I think that's unlikely. If there was any resistance to the tube then it was likely just an involuntary reflex'

'Jac's never done anything involuntarily in her life' he retorts 'She's waking up. Look, her heart rate has risen'

'That doesn't mean anything, Jonny. Why don't you come to my office and we can talk properly?'

'I'm not leaving her' he replies. He is adamant about what he heard, he cannot understand why the doctors don't want to believe him.

'We need to talk, Jonny. You're her next of kin, and this isn't the place…'

'She'll do it again. Instead of wasting your time talking to me in the office, wait and see: she'll do it again'

ooooo

She can hear Jonny arguing. That's all he seems to do nowadays, which is weird because she always thought that he reserved arguing just for her. She can also hear the Consultant but he is too far away and he has a thick accent – another Scot but with a much stronger accent than Jonny's - and she cannot tell what he is saying, only that it is making Jonny even angrier. She tries again to cough against the tube but it does no good: she barely makes a sound and they are arguing too loudly to hear her. Her arms are still pinned to the bed and her feet still don't want to behave themselves. Her fingers are a different question. Summoning all her strength she manages to wriggle the fingers on her right hand and waits for them to notice.

ooooo

'Goodness!' the nurse exclaims, gesturing towards Jac's hand and the fingers that unmistakably just moved. The Consultant blanches and grabs for a penlight to check Jac's pupils and Jonny just resists the temptation to tell them all that he told them so.

'Pupils are reactive' the doctor announces, still shining the torch in her eyes.

'Jac, it's Jonny, can you hear me?' he elbows the stupid, ineffectual consultant out of the way and gazes down at her face, relieved that her eyes are open and that she's staring at him like he's the one whose lost his marbles. She coughs again against the ventilator. 'Can we do something about this? It's obviously bothering her'

'Pass me the oxygen' the Doctor replies, deftly removing the tube from Jac's throat. She coughs and splutters for what feels like forever but she is breathing on her own and she is conscious, two things which Jonny would have sold his soul for only a few minutes earlier. 'Jac, I'm Dr McCartney. How are you feeling?'

'Jonny' the word isn't even a whisper. It is a gasp that gets lost in the melee but he hears it loud and clear. 'Baby?'


	9. Chapter 9 - Rejection

It overwhelms her. The pain; the fact that her feet still won't behave and while her right hand seems fine, her left feels strange; the fact that she cannot organise her thoughts into any kind of coherent sense. And then, in the midst of it all, there is Jonny showing her pictures on his phone of their baby but her eyes won't focus properly and it's little more than a blur. She wants to tell the doctor how bad she feels, and to tell Jonny to shut up, but she can't find the words to do either.

'Jonny' the nurse picks up on her distress and steps in front of Jonny, steering him away to Jac's immense relief. 'Shall we give Jac some space for a minute'

'Sure' his shoulders slump and he steps away, putting the phone back in his pocket. He looks deflated but she doesn't have the resources to worry about him. She is too concerned about herself and the fact that she is struggling to absorb a single word that the doctor is saying. He is using long words, words that she used to use in her daily vocabulary, but she is too groggy and none of it makes any sense to her.

'Jac, can you squeeze my hand' the doctor asks eventually, finally stopping with the long words and taking her hands in his. The right hand squeezes his fingers no problem. The left is weaker, more of a struggle, and she manages little more than a twitch. She looks at Jonny, sees that he looks stricken. She wants to understand what the hell is wrong with her, but the words won't go in and her usually sharp mind feels as if it is filled with cotton wool. All she knows for certain is that she is so tired, and that all she wants to do is go back to sleep.

ooooo

He leaves ITU, his head reeling. He looks at his phone, sees half a dozen missed calls from Chantelle, but he can't bring himself to call her back. Jac is awake. He should be overjoyed but he isn't. As a nurse he knows that people who come out of weeklong comas tend not to be firing on all cylinders, but as a person he fears the worst. She is clearly confused, and the lack of function in her left hand is a massive concern. He remembers the doctor's words about brain damage and lasting loss of function and all of the optimism that has tided him over for a week deserts him. The tears come before he even reaches the end of the corridor. He should be crying tears of relief but he isn't. He's crying because for the first time the doctor's warnings about her poor prognosis seem real and he realises that Jac being alive but trapped in a mind, and a body, that won't do as she wants might actually be worse than Jac not being around at all. He staggers a couple of steps, blinded by the tears, and then in a fit of blinding anger he punches the vending machine.

ooooo

'Very intelligent' she stands in front of him with her hands on her hips, scolding him as if he is a disobedient child. It riles him because of all the people, she is the only person whose chiding really bothers him and worse still, he knows that she has a point. At his side the baby kicks her legs and gurgles happily and Mo's steely demeanour cracks slightly. She can't resist his little girl. 'Punching a vending machine? Really, Jonny. How much use are you going to be with her with a broken hand? Not to mention the fact that you'll be off work for six weeks'

'I'll be fine' he replies. He's not entirely sure how he is going to cope one handed – he's not that great at nappies and bottles with both hands in full working order – but he knows that somehow he will muddle through. At least his hand is going to get better, which might be more than can be said for Jac. The thought makes him groan and he raises his good hand to his face and rubs his eyes wearily, almost relieved that he's run out of tears. 'You were wrong, y'know. She's awake'

'I know' Mo pulls up a seat at his side and takes his good hand, rubbing it between hers the way he once rubbed Jac's. 'Elliot told me. I've never been so glad to be wrong'

'She's not right though. She's…' he trails off, searching for the words.

'She's just come out of a coma, Jonny. Give the girl a chance'

'But her hand…'

'Give it a chance, Jonny. Considering how bad she was she's doing really well. She's woken up and she's interacting. That's more than we could have hoped for twenty four hours ago'

'But…' he starts, but he trails off because he knows that she is right. He's had his miracle, now he's just going to have to wait and see.

ooooo

When she wakes up she is almost disappointed. She had hoped that when she woke up it would turn out to have been a dream but she opens her eyes and sees the machines and it is all too real. She still doesn't understand what went wrong or what is the matter with her now, but she knows that whatever it is, the baby is the cause of it. Her mind still isn't doing what she wants it to do. Words that used to trip off her tongue are locked somewhere deep in her mind and she struggles to take in anything that is said to her. She doesn't even like to think about the state of her hand, she knows only too well the implications of that although the full ramifications are too horrendous for her to grasp in her woozy state.

'How are you feeling?' the nurse asks her kindly. She blinks in response because she can't find the words to answer even a simple question. 'Would you like some water?'

'Yes' she manages because her throat is parched and burning, bruised from the assault of the tube. The nurse gives her a glass and she sips it gratefully before collapsing back against the pillows, exhausted.

'Your little girl is beautiful. You must be looking forward to seeing her' the nurse tells her, blithely unaware that the baby is the last thing that Jac wants to talk about. She doesn't care how beautiful the baby is. She feels nothing for the baby except resentment. 'Perhaps Jonny will bring her to see you tomorrow' the nurse goes on cheerily. Jac wants to tell her to tell him not to bother, but she is too tired and the words aren't there so instead she shuts her eyes again and pretends to be asleep.

ooooo

'Morning Jac' the nurse trills cheerily. Four days on this bloody ward – four conscious days at least – and already she has a list of a dozen or so nurses who she could cheerfully strangle. She doesn't want their endless wittering or their encouraging smiles. What she wants is to be left alone. The only person that she is interested in seeing is her physiotherapist and he only turns up twice a day, doing a few minutes of far too simple hand exercises with her that frustrate more than they help. Jonny visits daily and talks endlessly about their daughter. He seems to put her disinterest down to her medical condition and she longs to set him straight but even though her mind is coming back stronger every day, she still doesn't have the energy for an argument that she will lose. He adores their daughter, at least somebody does, and he will never understand her antipathy. She has lost a glistening career that she has spent her entire life working towards, and instead she's got a selfish little person that she never wanted. It hardly seems like a fair trade.

'Leave me alone' she grumbles, shifting around in the bed. She is on a normal ward now, and the doctor seems confident that her memory and her kidney will recover fully given time, but she takes little comfort from that because neither will give her career back.

'Jonny's bringing the baby in later. You must be looking forward to that'

'Sure' she replies, mentally adding "about as much as I look forward to food poisoning". For the last four days she has stalled, claiming that she is too tired or in too much pain to deal with the baby, but today Jonny wouldn't be dissuaded. He has to bring the baby in for some check up or other and since they are in the hospital there is going to be no getting out of it. She is going to have to face the thing that has ruined her life – the thing that will always, always be associated with the hell that she is going through now – and worse still she is going to have to be nice about it.

ooooo

He is brimming with excitement. Today, he is certain, is going to be the first day of the rest of their lives. Jac is going to meet the baby and he knows that when she does she will fall in love, just like he did. She might be being little bit distant now but that is only because she hasn't seen her chubby little arms and legs, or heard the gurgle that he swears sounds like a laugh. When she does she will feel differently because how could anybody not adore such a beautiful, happy little girl?

'You're going to see mummy today' he tells her cheerily. They are still at Jac's house and to his relief, when he told her that she had accepted it with a shrug. It makes perfect sense because now that Jac is getting better it won't be long before she is home and this is where he and the baby belong. 'Maybe you'll even get a name. I can't keep calling you daddy's pretty girl forever: you wouldn't like it when you start school. But once mummy sees you, I'm sure she'll have some ideas'

'Jonny, are you sure that Jac is ready to see her? She's been through a lot' behind him, Mo is the voice of reason. They have buried the hatchet over their recent argument, and she has been invaluable because she's right, looking after a baby with one hand is near impossible, but she still insists on tempering his happiness with a hefty reality check. Now that Jac is getting better all he wants to do is look to the future but Mo won't let him get carried away. She has his best interests at heart, he knows that, but it is still starting to really irritate him.

'Exactly, and seeing the baby will be just what she needs. Who wouldn't feel better for seeing this little beauty' he replies, grinning down at the baby. Mo sighs and rubs her eyes. She looks exhausted but that's because they were both awake five times in the night and unlike him, she worked a full shift the day before. 'You should go home and get some sleep. We'll be fine at the hospital'

'It's fine, Jonny: I'll come with you'

'You're done in' he tells her firmly 'And I don't need a chaperone. We'll get a taxi and if I need help then you know the nurses can never resist a helpless man with blue eyes and a baby'

ooooo

She watches him bound down the steps and climb into the waiting taxi while she locks up the house, and her heart breaks for him. He is so happy, which is only right and proper since he has got a beautiful baby girl, but it terrifies her that so much of his happiness is bound up in Jac. He doesn't know that she visited Jac the previous evening because she didn't tell him. She wanted to when she arrived back at the house but he was so thrilled about finally taking the baby to visit her and she couldn't bring herself to burst his bubble. She knows, though, that Jac is far less thrilled than Jonny is about the baby. She can't really blame her. Jac is a woman whose whole life has been defined by a career, and now that career has been jeopardised, probably ended, by the lasting effects of the complications from the birth of a child that she was never that convinced she wanted in the first place. She'd had her suspicions when after three days Jac had shown no discernable interest in seeing the baby – she knew that was the case because if she had, Jonny would have been there like a shot – and seeing Jac had only served to confirm them. She had tried to talk to Jac about the baby, but Jac had only wanted to talk about the ward. That was all she needed to confirm her worst fears, but she knows that there is no point in trying to make Jonny see that. She can't afford to fall out with him because when the penny drops for him he is going to need her more than ever. The best thing that she can do is to stay here and wait to pick up the pieces.

ooooo

She sees them coming and her heart sinks. She had hoped that Jonny would think better of it, but no such luck. He is here, barrelling towards her with a tiny infant strapped to his chest in some ridiculous harness thing that she is sure she didn't buy, ready for the happy family reunion that he thinks he is owed, and she can't deal with it. She doesn't actually want to be cruel to him but he is such a maddening person sometimes and she knows that she is going to hurt him because she is too tired to pretend for his sake.

'Look who it is!' he exclaims as he approaches the bed and unfastens the baby from the carrier. 'It's mummy'

'Jonny…' she manages a whisper and she hates herself for sounding so pathetic.

'Do you want to hold her?'

'No' it is as firm as she can be and his smile wavers momentarily.

'If you're worried about dropping her with your hand like it is then…'

'I'm not. Jonny, I need you to move out of the house. They're going to discharge me in the next couple of weeks and when I do, you can't be there. You can take the stuff from her room, anything you need, but I need you to go home'

ooooo

When he arrives home he is strangely quiet. He doesn't mention the visit to Jac, or whether they have agreed on a name for the baby, or anything at all really. He wordlessly goes up to the nursery and starts to very slowly and methodically dismantle all of the nursery furniture. His injured hand hampers him but he barely seems to notice it at all as he works, pausing only when the baby cries and he has to give her a bottle. Mo wants to ask him what Jac said but she knows that if he wanted to then he would tell her. Clearly it wasn't anything positive because if it had been then he wouldn't be packing their daughter's worldly belongings. Eventually after a good couple of hours during which he works and she watches him, he stands back to survey his handiwork and finally he meets her eye.

'Jac wants us out' he tells her simply 'She doesn't want the baby, or me, here. She doesn't want anything to do with the baby at all'

'Oh Jonny…' she wants to give him a hug, but she doesn't because she can tell that he doesn't want her to because if she does then he will crumble completely.

'It's fine. Better that we all know where we stand' he picks up the baby and cuddles her close, the only source of comfort that he needs. 'Lily and I will be fine'

'Lily?'

'Yeah. She needs a name. She can't wait for Jac to pull herself together'


	10. Chapter 10 - Departure

He doesn't visit her again. It takes all of his willpower to stay away, but he does because it is what she has asked of him. He sends Sacha to visit her daily and gets updates from him, but there is little to report that interests him. It is good news that she is off dialysis, and that she is getting stronger by the day, but until she changes her mind about being a mother to their child he can't possibly be happy so after a while he stops listening to Sacha's daily bulletin. Only on her last day in hospital does he finally venture onto the ward, and even then it is only to give her back her house key. He could have given it to Sacha but the truth is, he wants to deliver it himself. It is a symbolic gesture: his way of telling her that she's got her own way.

ooooo

'Who is going to look after you when you get home?' he asks. He doesn't intend to ask – in fact, he hates himself for showing that he cares at all – but he can't help himself.

'I am' she replies simply, turning the house key over and over in her good hand.

'The baby's fine, by the way' he adds pointedly. Even if she doesn't want to be a mother to their child the least she could do is ask after her, it's just good manners, but when she doesn't he can't resist volunteering the information.

'I'm glad to hear it' she replies, but she sounds unconvinced.

'Why don't you let us come and visit when you're settled? We don't have to stay and you don't have to do anything that you don't want to do, but maybe if you spend some time with Lily then you'll feel differently'

'Lily?' she raises an eyebrow and he bristles. Given her total disinterest she cannot seriously have expected him to still be waiting for her input.

'Problem?'

'No, it's a nice name. I really don't see what you visiting will achieve. I need to concentrate on my physiotherapy'

'Humour me. I've never asked anything of you, have I, but I'm asking this. Spend an hour with Lily, just an hour, and if you still don't feel anything for her then you never have to see either of us again

ooooo

He doesn't expect to hear from her. He knows that he's overstepped the mark, and that she will have every right to be angry with him, but he doesn't care. His only concern is for his daughter and despite the fact that he knows it isn't the case, there is a part of him that fears that if Jac rejects their daughter then one day Lily will be as damaged by that as Jac is by her own mother's abandonment. Of course there is a world of difference between Jac and Lily, not least the fact that Lily at least has one parent who would walk through fire for her, but he can't help but worry because the thought of his daughter ever being as unhappy as Jac is makes his blood run cold. He is surprised when the text message comes through. It is a week since his run in with Jac and six days since she's left the hospital and he's heard nothing from her since, so when he sees the text message he is amazed. When he reads it he is even more amazed because even though it says simply: "Saturday, 2pm, 1 hour" it means that she is giving him a chance.

ooooo

She does it as much for her sake as for his. Despite the hefty dose of antidepressants that is one of the cocktail of pills that she has to take now she still doesn't feel anything but disinterest for her daughter, but if she gives him his precious hour then she can stop feeling guilty about it. She doesn't really believe that it will make any difference whatsoever, but by giving him that one hour it means that she has been more than fair to him and it is also a chance to assuage her own curiosity. She is pretty sure that she doesn't want anything to do with the baby, but she wants to know that she is being well taken care of. She didn't go through a hellish pregnancy and cripple herself with childbirth to see the child get neglected. She needs to know that the baby – she still can't use the name Lily, it just doesn't feel right to her – is going to be looked after and then she can move on with her life.

ooooo

When he turns up he looks drained and exhausted, but there is little mistaking his devotion to the tiny girl in his arms. He comes in and sits on the sofa, but he doesn't put Lily down or make any attempt to give her to Jac to cuddle. He simply holds her close and sits in silence, waiting for Jac to make the first move because since she has summoned him he presumes that she has something to say.

'Do you want to hold her?' he asks eventually, because if this is his one chance to make Jac see what she is missing than he needs to do something other than clutch his daughter and wish that the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

'No' she replies glumly 'How is she doing?'

'Fine. She smiled for the first time yesterday'

'That's nice. How's your hand?'

'Mending. How's yours?'

'Getting there'

'Good' he replies as the conversation withers and dies of embarrassment again. 'Are you sure that you don't want to hold her?'

'Positive. I wanted you to come because I need to tell you something' she takes a deep breath and sheepishly refuses to meet his eye. It is a sure sign that she is up to something. 'I'm going away'

'On holiday?'

'Indefinitely. I need space and there's nothing for me in Holby anymore. I can't work and…'

'Some might say that your daughter is reason enough to stay'

'Jonny, you know that I…'

'What? Can't? Jac, you've barely given it a chance. If you did then…'

'Once I've sold the house then I'll see that you're sorted out financially'

'I don't want your money'

'You're a Nurse, Jonny. I know what you make and childcare isn't cheap'

'Apparently that's my concern, not yours'

'I'm doing my best'

'Well it's inadequate'

'Take it or leave it' she snaps and he shuts up because she is right. No matter how much he doesn't want to take her guilt money, he does need it. Supporting himself and his daughter is a stretch already, and he hasn't even thought about paying for childcare yet.

'Fine. Where will you go? Is it safe, what with your kidney…'

'That's my business'

'So you called me here to tell me that you're about to disappear without leaving a forwarding address. That's cold even for you' he snaps, standing up as the bundle in his arms starts to wail. For a moment he considers just leaving the house and taking Lily home to where Jac and her mindgames can't hurt them, but instead he heads for the bathroom because the baby needs a new nappy and he needs some space.

ooooo

When he emerges the lounge is empty. There is no sign of Jac and the shoes and the handbag that had been tucked neatly in the corner have gone. A glance out of the window reveals that so has her car. He has to question the wisdom of her driving at all in her condition, but he knows that even if he did catch her up there is nothing that he can do to stop her. She's never listened to him, never listened to common sense at all. She will do exactly what it is she wants to do, and in this case apparently she wanted to run away and that's exactly what she's done.


	11. Chapter 11 - Lost

The sun is scorching, gently baking her skin as she walks barefoot down the road between the bus stop and the post office. It is eight weeks since she packed up and left Holby, and her new family, behind her. Eight weeks in which she's felt simultaneously freer than she's ever felt and completely and utterly lost. After leaving Jonny at the house she'd travelled to the airport, stopping off on the way only to drop the car off at the dealership and the keys to the house off at the estate agent, with instructions to transfer the money from the sale of both into her bank account. Once there she'd paid for a one way, first class ticket to the first hot destination that had appeared on the departure boards. Thailand had seemed like a good bet because it was vast, hot and so full of travellers that nobody would notice her at all. The flight had been long and painful because Jonny was right really, no doctor would have sanctioned her travelling any distance at all in her condition, but it had been worth it. When she'd stepped into the lobby of the first five star hotel she'd come to and booked herself into a beachside bungalow for a week she'd finally started to feel human again. She'd spent the next two months lying on one beach or another, wearing a swimsuit because in a bikini her scars would have scared small children, doing nothing more strenuous than reading a novel. Her hand is still weak and frustrating, and her memory is so poor that she can't actually remember the name of her own child unless Sacha jogs her memory by mentioning it in one of his weekly unresponded to emails, but she is starting to feel better. This morning, when she'd received an email from the estate agent informing her that the sale of the house is complete and the money is in her bank account, she finally felt that her recovery was complete. As promised the first thing that she did was write a cheque to Jonny. It is generous, frankly outlandishly so, but it is the right thing to do. She might not feel like any kind of a mother, but she knows that she doesn't want the child growing up with a parent constantly struggling to make ends meet. That was the childhood that she'd had – at least until she was twelve when it had gotten a whole lot worse – and she doesn't want her child to go through the same when it is in her power to prevent it. She knows that there is a reasonable chance that Jonny's foolish male pride will prevent him from ever cashing the cheque but she can do nothing about that. By scrawling her signature and far too many zeroes on a cheque and putting it in the post to him, care of the hospital because she no longer had any real idea where he was living, she's done her best.

ooooo

'You get the plates, I'll open the drinks' he tells Mo, tossing the mail that he'd grabbed from the doormat down beside the toaster and making a beeline for the bottle opener, already gasping for the first refreshing swig of beer. It has been a long day, a long week, and it isn't going to get any easier because thanks to the tiny little tyrant in the pushchair he is never really off duty nowadays. She might never have really met her mother, but at just three months old it is clear that Lily has inherited her temperament and her gift for timing which means that his life is one long, exhausting rollercoaster. A night in with Mo with a beer, a pizza and an outside chance that his friend would offer to do at least one night feed and let him get the first three hour stretch of sleep he's had in three months, is just about the best thing that he can imagine at the moment.

'What about madam?' Mo gestures to the pushchair, already grabbing two plates and sliding the pizzas onto them, their attempt at domesticity.

'She's asleep, Mo. For God's sake don't disturb her or she'll scream for the next eight hours' he replies, passing her a bottle of beer and steering the buggy into the sitting room so that he can keep an eye on his daughter while chatting to Mo.

'Fine' Mo replies, gratefully taking a glass of red wine from his hand, sloshing a little onto the pile of post that has been mounting up beside the toaster ever since he moved in six weeks ago. He's kidded himself that if he doesn't open the bills and the final demands from the electricity people then he won't have to face the fact that unless he goes back to work full time and finds some really, really reasonable childcare he isn't going to be able to afford to pay them. The fact that the company has taken to leaving increasingly impatient messages on his answerphone suggests that it isn't going to be the case, but he certainly wasn't going to deal with it tonight. 'Bloody hell, sorry' she mutters, grabbing a towel and swabbing ineffectually at the pool of red wine that stains the white envelopes. Then she stops swabbing and freezes, staring at one envelope in particular. As he follows her gaze he realises what has made her blood run cold because it has the same effect on him. For the last two months he's heard nothing whatsoever from Jac. She hasn't managed so much as an email or a text message to ask after her daughter, and her phone has been turned off so if there had been anything to report he couldn't have contacted her. And now, out of nowhere, there is a letter in her handwriting, in his kitchen, on what is supposed to be the one night a week when he can relax a little.

'That's…' she points at the envelope, not bothering to finish her sentence. He knows precisely what it is, and she knows perfectly well that he does. '… Are you going to open it?'

'What's the point? I very much doubt that she's got anything interesting to say' he replies, but the truth is that even the fact that it is postmarked Thailand has piqued his curiosity. He wants to know where she is, what she is playing at and if she has anything to say for herself that isn't wholly inadequate.

'You won't know if you don't open it. You'll just obsess about it' Mo replies, astutely. She'd been there. She'd picked up the pieces and listened to him rant angrily about Jac's appalling disappearance until finally it was out of his system, and she knows that he is never really going to be able to stuff it behind the toaster and forget about it, no matter how good he is at doing it with the red demands from the electricity people. 'You never know; it might be good news'

'There is no good news' he replies miserably, picking up the letter and turning it over in his hands, again and again, examining the wine-stained envelope from every angle as if it is going to give him some kind of clue as to what is in it. 'Either she stays away, or she comes back and probably wants custody of Lily. Neither of those things exactly fills me with joy'

'Well you're not going to relax until you find out which' Mo replies firmly 'Do you want me to do it?' she adds, remembering the day that he received the results of his final nursing exam and had been too nervous to open them himself. She'd done the honours then and she is more than happy to do it again.

'Okay' he presses the envelope into his hand and regrets it immediately when Mo rips it open before he has the chance to change his mind and pulls out a single piece of paper. She looks at it and her eyes widen.

'Fucking hell' she murmurs 'This is more than I earn in three years'

'What?!' he peers over her shoulder, and for a moment he thinks that his eyes are playing tricks on him. 'Bloody hell. That's more than I can earn in six! Do you think she added an extra zero in error?'

'No, she's written it out' Mo traces her finger along the words on the cheque. A hundred and eighty thousand pounds. Silly money.

'I can't take that. It's too much'

'Red demands, Jonny' she replies, gesturing at the rest of the post, most of which was red even before she started getting careless with the wine. 'You can't afford not to take it'

'It's guilt money'

'I don't care if it's drug money, Jonny. It's to keep you and more importantly Lily in a comfortable life. That means not letting the electricity get cut off'

'I want to put it in a trust fund for when she's older'

'Fine, do that with some of it. But a trust fund when she's older isn't going to be much comfort when she's spent her childhood with a father constantly worrying about money'

'You think I should take it?'

'I think that you can't afford to be proud about it' she replies.

'Is there a letter with it?'

'No, just the cheque. Promise me that you'll cash it first thing tomorrow'

'I will' he replies, more disappointed than she will ever know that there is no letter, for all his grand talk about how he is over her. He knows that Mo is right about the cheque. He owes it to Lily to build a life where she can have a proper childhood, one that doesn't involve a rented flat that's only a little bit less grotty than the shoebox over the kebab joint that he recently vacated. With this she can have a decent education, decent childcare until she starts school and he can stop living in fear of having his utilities cut off. Mo is right. He really can't afford to be proud.

ooooo

When she looks at her bank balance, as she does on a daily basis to see whether he's cashed the cheque yet, she is almost surprised to see that it is nearly two hundred thousand pounds lighter than before. She still has more than enough money to keep herself very comfortably for as long as she chooses to be away because Thailand is cheap, and years of working hard and spending next to nothing means that she's more than comfortably off. Now that he has cashed the cheque she doesn't need to worry about Jonny and the baby being less than comfortable. Her guilt at being an absolutely lousy mother is assuaged. With a smile on her face she logs out of the computer in the Internet café, downs the rest of the disgusting coffee that she bought along with the fifteen minutes Internet time and heads back to the beach.


	12. Chapter 12 - Found

**Thanks for your great replies :) Rumbling towards the end so it's going to start getting happier now I think :)**

She is lying on the beach, sipping a pina colada and thumbing through the latest novel purloined from the hotel book swap when she hears footsteps beside her, a little closer than she is entirely comfortable with and looks up. She takes in the sunburnt face, and the brightly coloured shirt, and the stupid smile and wonders at her own misfortune. He can't have known she was here – she's never replied to any of his emails, and had been so careful to cover her tracks that even to post Jonny's letter she'd taken a bus to a different village – but somehow he's found here and he looks delighted with himself.

'Well, bloody hell!' he exclaims cheerfully. 'Jac Naylor! Of all the hotels in all the world!'

'What are you doing here, Sacha?' she asks wearily as he settles himself down on a sunlounger. Now that he's found her she fears that it'll be weeks before she gets rid of him and gets some peace and quiet again.

'I'm on holiday' he replies cheerily, gesturing towards the pool where two dark haired teenage girls are frolicking cheerfully with a little blonde boy. 'With the kids. I told you: we booked this six months ago as a treat for Rachel'

'You told me you were coming here?' she asks wearily. When she'd asked for the Pho Than Resort and Spa she'd inwardly wondered where she knew the name from, but she'd imagined she'd seen it advertised at the airport. Perhaps she had, but apparently Sacha had already planted the seed in her stupid, defective mind months earlier.

'Yes! You helped me choose a hotel. Of course the idea that Chrissie would come with us, but…'

'Yeah' she replies. Her memory isn't so addled that she has entirely forgotten what Chrissie had put her good friend through. At least that part of her memory isn't. 'How long are you here for?'

'Two weeks. It's good to see you, Naylor'

'Likewise' she replies, not really meaning it. She loves Sacha to pieces – he's one of vanishing few people in Holby that she has missed – but the thought of spending two weeks with him is exhausting at the best of times. With a mind that won't completely behave and a vocabulary that is still not what it was, it is unthinkable.

'I couldn't believe it when Jonny said you were gone. And without saying goodbye…'

'I needed to get away. It was a difficult time'

'I know. I was there' he replies, kicking his legs back on the lounger and folding his arms behind his head, settling in for the duration. 'Every day when you were in ITU in fact'

'You were?'

'Yes. Mo and I had a sort of pact: one of us would stay with you and one of us with Lily. That way Jonny didn't need to worry about either of you being alone'

'Very public spirited' she replies, aware that she's being ungrateful. After what he'd been through with Rachel the last thing he needed was another lengthy bedside vigil but he'd done it.

'It's what you do for friends, Jac'

'Is it?' she asks wearily. She doesn't know because she's never really had a friend. Not one that she'd put herself out for at any rate.

'Yes. Lily's beautiful, by the way'

'I'm sure she is' she replies. She remembers absolutely nothing of her daughter. Those first weeks out of hospital are now a complete blur to her: she remembers nothing before her second or third week in Thailand when slowly the confusion that had enveloped her had started to lift. For a moment she fears that he is going to push the point, and force her to discuss her daughter, but to her relief his kids run over and the conversation is interrupted by the youngest crawling all over Sacha and Rachel and Rebecca squabbling over something and nothing in the way that teenage girls do.

'Look, I'm going to have to deal with the kids and I'm sure you don't want to be bothered with us. Will you have dinner with me though? Tonight. I'm buying'

'Surely you want to have dinner with the kids?'

'This lot? They'll be happier with a pizza in the room and a DVD' he replies, slinging an arm around his oldest daughter, his little boy clinging like a monkey around his neck. 'Meet me in the lobby at eight o clock, eh?'

'Fine' she sighs, because he's got a captive audience now and if she deals with him tonight then it means that she doesn't have to spend the next fortnight fending him off.

ooooo

'What made you go?' he asks. As uncomfortable questions to ask over the starters go it is a corker. It puts her on the defensive immediately, especially since she can't really explain what was essentially nothing more than a deep-rooted conviction that she needed to get away. There was no reason for it, and no in depth analysis. She had just known that she needed to go and she'd gone, but there is no hope of Sacha ever understanding that. He is a man who lives for his children and defines himself by them. He'd be struck down dead before voluntarily putting thousands of miles between himself and them.

'It was suffocating me' she replies because it is just about the most coherent thing she can think of to say. 'Holby just made me focus on all the things that didn't work about me – my hand, my memory, my kidney, my maternal instinct. I needed to get some space'

'I get that. After what you'd been though, nobody could blame you for being traumatised' he replies 'What about now. Are you feeling more… yourself?'

'My memory is improved, I saw a doctor here for some tests the other week and my kidney function is more or less normal, and my hand…' she pauses, opens her handbag and gets out a coin, twisting it deftly through the fingers of her left hand. It is a skill that took hours of work but it is her new favourite party piece. It means that one day, maybe, she can be a surgeon again.

'And what about your maternal instinct? Don't you miss the baby at all?'

'You can't miss what you never had. And anyway, it's better for her this way. Better that she never knows me than that I grudgingly play a part in her life until I can't do it anymore and I bugger off when she's old enough to understand'

'Like your mother did?' he asks wearily. He knows the history. He met her insane bitch of a mother when she was in Holby and he was there in the aftermath of the kidney transplant fiasco. He knows better than most the lasting effects of her mother's desertion. 'Jac, you can't just assume that you're going to be the same as her'

'I can't take the risk that I'm not. She had postnatal depression. She hated me from the moment that she clapped eyes on me; she could never get past the fact that my existence meant that she was stuck in a council flat with my grandfather instead of travelling the world. She blamed me for clipping her wings'

'And you blame Lily for the fact that you might not be able to operate again?' he asks, filling in the gaps because despite the evidence to the contrary he is not a stupid man.

'She fucked off to find herself in a hot country, and I appear to have done exactly the same thing' she concludes, ignoring him. 'The difference is, Lily has a good father and I had a non existent one, and Lily has never known me at all'

'My father left when I was fourteen months old' Sacha replies, telling her something that she didn't already know. She'd sort of imagined Sacha growing up in a perfect, nuclear family with a nice house, perfect parents, a couple of equally perfect siblings and a lolloping Labrador or two. 'He left my mother with a rather large hole in the finances. Do you think that when Helen was expecting the girls, or Chrissie was pregnant with Daniel, I worried that I'd do the same as him? Abscond and leave my family to cope alone?'

'I very much doubt it. You're not that kind of person'

'No, but my father was. By your logic, I should have buggered off just on the off chance that I caused them lasting damage by turning out like my father' he points out reasonably. 'Being a shit parent isn't something that gets handed down. You've already proven that you're a million times better than your mother. I just wish that you could see that for yourself'

'Have you quite finished with the amateur psychoanalysis?' she asks wearily, prodding listlessly at her salad while he attacks his beef Carpaccio with gusto.

'I've said my piece' he replies through a mouthful of beef. Clearly his table manners haven't improved in her absence. 'So, you won't believe who's in charge of the ED…' he adds, and with that he goes wittering off on an unlikely sounding tangent about Connie Beauchamp and she feels her shoulders sag with relief because the conversation that she'd dreaded is finally over.


	13. Chapter 13 - Better Judgement

**A/N After a short break (sorry!) it's back. Think it's rumbling towards its conclusion now. Feedback appreciated as ever!**

It is the rainy season that eventually drives her away from Thailand. When the weather was fine and she could lie on the beach for hours on end the boredom that she is prone to experience on holidays never came, but as soon as the rain drives her inside she is climbing the walls. Three days crammed in a bungalow listening to the rain batter the straw roof, venturing out only when absolutely necessary for food, is just about all she can take and by the fifth day she is positively begging to be taken to the airport. The airport, with its bustling crowds and brightly lit shops, seems alien to her after months spent in seclusion, and for the second time in six months she finds herself looking up at a departure board and wondering where to go. California seems like a good bet, so does Australia, but before she really thinks about the implications she finds herself booking the first flight to Holby. She doesn't understand it herself because she has loved being away and there is nothing there for her now, but for the first time in a long time she wants to go home.

ooooo

When the plane touches down on the runway she is almost relieved by the rain, because at least this is the kind she recognises as rain: the pathetic, half assed English drizzle that she knows how to deal with seems so much more bearable than the torrential downpours of Thailand, and she is almost relieved when she steps off the plane and feels cold for the first time in months. As pleasant as her extended break was, this is her home and she is pleased to be back. The pleasure lasts for as long as it takes her to collect her suitcase and head for the taxi rank, but as soon as she climbs into the back of a cab she realises her mistake. It is all very well coming back here out of some misguided fit of nostalgia, but when she was booking the flight it never occurred to her to think about where she would go when she got here. The house is long gone, ditto her car, and she doesn't know what she will achieve by going to the hospital. Technically she is still on the staff, and the fact that she has been on maternity leave rather than truly AWOL means she is likely to be able to inveigle her way back in if only she can prove that she is in possession of her faculties and her fine motor skills, but she can't kid herself that anybody is going to be pleased to see her. Elliot might possibly still be able to tolerate the sight of her, but she knows that she will get a short shrift from Mo and probably an even shorter one from Jonny. In the end though, she barks at the driver to take her to the hospital because sooner or later she is going to have to face the music, so it might just as well be sooner.

ooooo

When she walks onto the ward the first thing that hits her is that nothing has changed. As comforting, familiar sights go there is little that can beat the sight of Elliot Hope thoughtfully perusing the box of donuts before inevitably going for the biggest, stickiest there is. She can't help it; her face cracks into a smile and she goes over to him, enjoying the expression of astonished pleasure that creeps across his face.

'Jac!' he exclaims, half chuckling with surprise, and then before she has the chance to duck he throws his arms around her, catching her in an embrace and getting sticky donut glaze in her hair. Some things apparently never change and Elliot is one of them. 'What on earth are you doing here?'

'The last time I checked, I worked here' she replies cheerfully, unable to resist a glance over his shoulder at the notes in his hand. To her relief, they make sense to her: the hours spent lying on the beach, desperately trying to relearn what was lost has paid off.

'Well yes of course' he blusters 'But, I mean, you're on leave. We didn't expect you back'

'Consider me a nice surprise then' she replies wryly. She knows perfectly well that Elliot is the only person who'll consider her return anything other than a blow.

'It is a nice surprise' Elliot hugs her again, pulling away only when a small blonde nurse interrupts them by clearing her throat loudly and glaring officiously at them. This one is new, Jac thinks to herself wryly as Elliot visibly shrinks before the five foot nothing tyrant. 'Nurse Atkinson, how can I help you?'

'You were due in theatre' she replies, tapping her watch impatiently. 'Five minutes ago. If you start late…'

'Then I finish late' he replies glumly. Clearly this new woman, whoever she is, has made it perfectly clear who is boss, which is something that Jac resolves to nip in the bud. There is no way she is going to be dictated to by a jumped up nurse with an attitude problem. 'I'll go now'

'Good. And I've told you about food on the ward. It's against Health and Safety, Mr Hope' she replies, and with that she tosses her hair and struts away, her surgical shoes making a dull slapping sound against the linoleum as she goes.

'Well she seems charming' Jac remarks with a sarcastic grin as Elliot flaps, putting away the donuts and searching for the notes on the patient that he should already be operating on. 'What exactly is her job?'

'Transplant Theatre Coordinator and Ward Sister' he replies, pausing in his flapping to look embarrassed as he says it. For a moment she wonders why, and then she realises who the woman has replaced.

'That's Jonny's job'

'Not any more' a brusque voice behind her cuts in, and she realises that Jonny might be gone but Mo is still on the ward and doesn't sound happy. 'It's not a job that is exactly compatible with single fatherhood. He's moved on'

'Moved on?'

'Yeah' Mo replies, offering no more detail than that. Instead she snatches up the notes that Elliot is still searching for, presses them into his hand and storms towards theatre leaving Elliot trailing in her wake.

ooooo

She doesn't know why she waits. There is no real purpose in her staying on the ward, and what she should really be doing is talking to occupational health and getting herself cleared to return to work, but instead she takes a seat in the relative's room. Right up until the discovery that Jonny has moved on she would have insisted that she really didn't want to see him at all, but now that she has met his replacement and discovered that a reunion is well and truly off the cards she realises that she does. She isn't going to run into his arms, or suddenly become the mother of the year because he wants her to, but she wants to talk to him. Eventually, after hours of sitting in the uncomfortable seat in the relatives' room, wondering whether she can go and sit in the office instead, they return from theatre. Mo doesn't say a word to her, she simply storms past and into the staff room, slamming the door behind her. Elliot, however, comes and brings her a cup of coffee.

'Mo really misses Jonny' he offers by way of explanation as he hands her the coffee and she sips it gratefully. 'I don't think that it's anything personal'

'No?' she can't help but laugh. Clearly Mo's response is personal and who can blame her? If she hadn't gone well and truly off the rails then Jonny would probably still be here. Instead he's… well, somewhere else. 'Where has Jonny gone?'

'I…' Elliot looks embarrassed, his face flushing bright red '… I'm not sure. I mean, you'd probably better ask Mo. I only know that it's somewhere north of the border'

'Scotland?' she can't help but be surprised. Until she'd met his replacement it had never crossed her mind that Jonny wouldn't still be exactly where she left him, and Scotland seems an unlikely place for him to have gone. Whenever they discussed his home country in the past he had given the very strong impression that he didn't particularly like or miss it, so it seemed an odd place for him to run to.

'Yes. He contacted a friend who offered him a job up there that is more practical, what with Lily to think about. I'm not entirely sure what or where, but he went about three months ago'

ooooo

'What are you still doing here?' when she goes into the staff room she doesn't expect to be greeted with open arms. Mo is pissed off with her. That is fair enough. She doesn't actually care whether or not Mo likes her, all she wants is for Mo to tell her where Jonny has gone.

'I need to talk to you' she replies, pulling up a chair, putting it in front of the door and sitting on it so that Mo can't leave. Not without giving her the information that she needs. 'I want you to tell me where Jonny is'

'Yeah, right' Mo laughs slightly bitterly and carries on readying herself to go home. 'Do I look like I was born yesterday?'

'Mo, I have a right to know. He has my daughter with him' she tries. It isn't an argument that she feels comfortable using, or one that she really believes herself, but legally she is pretty sure that she has a leg to stand on. Not that she is ever going to involve lawyers, but Mo isn't to know that.

'So she's your daughter now, is she? Last I heard you'd parted with a huge sum of money so that you didn't have to have anything to do with her. You don't just get to stroll back in now that you've pulled your head out of whatever orifice it has been in for the last six months, and you're not going to be able to buy your way back in'

'That is a matter for me and Jonny. I need to speak to him, so if you just leave me the address then I'll be on my way' she snaps. She understands Mo's hesitation. She probably thinks that she is going to storm back into Jonny's life and demand custody of the child that he's raised single handed for months. Nothing could have been further from the truth. 'I'm not going to take Lily away from him, I promise you that. I just want to talk to him'

'I swear to god, if you hurt him...' Mo starts but gives up. There is no point in threatening, she knows that; nobody threatens Jac Naylor, and it would do no good if they did. It doesn't matter to Jac one way or the other. She has what she needs and she doesn't care whether or not it is against Mo's better judgement.


End file.
